


Imposter

by lyricalballads



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, set during At World’s End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalballads/pseuds/lyricalballads
Summary: Norrington tries to convince himself that he deserves to be admiral, but deep down he knows he'll always be haunted by his past deeds.
Kudos: 7





	Imposter

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story years ago, sometime in either 2011 or 2012. It was originally posted on fanfiction.net.

Shoulders back. Strand up straight.

No need to slouch or neglect your posture when such an important uniform is upon your back. Just look at your polished reflection, standing tall and civilized in a way you never thought you would see again, and admire the cut of that blue and gold uniform. The finely made tassels of the epaulets gracing your shoulders. The authoritative tilt of your admiral's hat.

Yes, you've got your life back at long last. No more stumbling around on that sinner's paradise known as Tortuga, as filthy and drunk as the pirates you always dreamed of hanging. No more passing out in the wee hours of the morning, usually accompanied by a bottle of rum and a vulgar whore—the usual companions when your life was at its lowest. No more dreaming of strangling Jack Sparrow with your bare hands, and certainly no more dreaming of Elizabeth's face, so close that you could almost press your lips to hers before the dream faded and a headache took its place.

With your sudden change in fortune, you might be lucky enough to win Elizabeth as well, and keep her this time. You're better than that scoundrel Jack Sparrow and that blacksmith Will Turner. Better than the two of them and all their sorry associates put together.

You're James Norrington—No, _Admiral_ James Norrington—and don't you deserve a chance at happiness like everyone else?

Of course you do. Just look at your fine uniform reflected in the glass, much finer than anything else you've had the privilege to wear.

_Your fine uniform. Bought with selfishness and treachery._

But no. No, that isn't true at all. You _deserve_ this uniform, along with all the advantages that come with it. You deserve to have your life back after Jack Sparrow—you refuse to refer to him as _Captain_ —helped steal it from you. That sordid past is behind you now and take a look at how that uniform fits you like a glove, as if you were _meant_ to have it all along.

And just look at that sword that hangs at your side—perhaps a bit dull in the glass—but when your eyes fall upon the real thing, it shines just as brightly as it did the day it was first presented to you. The day you became a commodore.

Never mind the fact that _Turner_ crafted the sword for you. Turner, the man who had a hand in your misfortunes as much as Sparrow did. The man who went away with the woman you loved while you were left to pursue a fool's errand, which led to nothing but a destroyed ship, a dead crew, and a humiliating resignation. Is it any wonder you were compelled to take salvation in whatever form it came? Can you be blamed for stealing the heart of Davy Jones, along with the letters of marque intended for Sparrow, and presenting the heart to Beckett?

_You weak-minded fool. Of course you can be blamed._

It's true, Beckett isn't the most ideal sort of man to negotiate with, but it's better than making deals with a no-good pirate, isn't it? Thanks to Beckett's desire for that heart—never mind how gruesome—you've been given back everything you've been robbed of.

Relax a bit. Close your eyes.

Imagine a time not so long ago—though it feels like it's been a lifetime—when your life was as grand and hopeful as you could possibly wish. A much simpler time when your greatest accomplishment was your promotion to commodore—the promotion that won you the sword that now hangs at your side—and the most worrisome matter was _how_ exactly you would speak with Elizabeth and propose the one ideal that was missing in your life: a marriage to a fine woman.

A simpler time indeed. A time when you had never had the misfortune of knowing a certain Jack Sparrow, though that would change soon enough. When you never imagined that Elizabeth's heart could be captured by none other than the local blacksmith who crafted your sword. How naïve you were in those simpler times, and how _cheated_ you were in the series of events that unfolded more rapidly than a barrage of military gunfire.

If only Elizabeth hadn't fallen into the sea in the middle of your proposal, and if only she hadn't been saved by that blasted Jack Sparrow. If you had only been able to grab her in time, she may be standing at your side and adjusting the last finishing touches on your uniform, in the suitable station of an admiral's wife.

_Your_ wife, for that matter.

_But you know you wouldn't have made her happy._

Open your eyes.

Take a good, particular look in the glass and assess the man who stares back at you. You wear that mighty admiral's hat with pride, but deep down you know that your pride is hollow and only hides the wretchedness that has plagued your soul since you first stepped foot on Tortuga, after that desperate day when your life was swept up by a hurricane. You like to imagine that you have your life back, and that your fortunes have been changed to the irrevocable good, but you know you're that same man who staggered each night into Tortuga's lowliest taverns and tried to drink away your mistakes.

Perhaps your fancy new uniform, the one you deem so elegant, is just another mistake to be added to your long list of misfortunes, but you can't drink a uniform away so easily.

Oh no, the only thing to do is wear it and see where it gets you, whether it's for better or for worse.


End file.
